


I Want To Remember

by turnedherbrain



Category: Humans (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Drama & Romance, F/M, Love, Post-Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-08 12:36:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14105517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turnedherbrain/pseuds/turnedherbrain
Summary: Post-s2, future AU.Leo wants to remember everything, no matter what the cost.Mattie tries everything to persuade him that he doesn’t.





	I Want To Remember

**Author's Note:**

> The injury sustained by Leo has affected his memory, including his ability to recall some one-off events. 
> 
> In this future world, commercial companies like Memento promise to not only restore memories, but also provide their customers with perfect recall. A perfect opportunity for Leo to remember everything... or is it?

**Day 25, 10am**

“Best thing I ever did,” their cab driver assured Leo. “Complete recall now. **Complete**. I’ve got a mind like a map – always remember the routes, the streets, the people, the conversations. I’m almost a synth! Like right now, for instance: all I need to do is store this moment, and access it later.”

The cabbie didn’t tell them that he couldn’t erase the arguments he’d been having with his wife; or that he couldn’t forget that one time his car careened off the road after a long night shift. He remembered how he’d felt, and how much he’d hurt, with absolute clarity. Those memories were preserved too.

“I want to remember,” agreed Leo eagerly, leaning forward as much as the rear seatbelt would allow him.

“You’re in safe hands,” affirmed their driver, thinking that Memento was worse than the rest of them. Pay more than you can, but we won’t tell you the consequences. He couldn’t tell his passengers that. He saw _that_ look in the man’s eyes. It was a look that said: ‘I’m determined to do this.’ Besides – backups of his memories were stored in the Memento company cloud: they could access anything he'd said, to anyone, at any time. It was all in the contract he'd so blindly signed.

They drew up outside a squat office building with silver, swishing doors; ‘Memento’ splashed in gleaming letters across the front. The entrance was flanked by fluttering banners full of smiling people with full, full memories. Mattie realised that the cabbie’s smile wasn’t like theirs – he smiled with his mouth, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. A false smile, and untrue words.

“Leo,” she said to her husband, gripping his hand tighter. “Last chance to rethink. I really don’t want you to go through with this.”

“And I really, really do,” countered Leo, but gently. “I think it will improve our lives. Just think – our first kiss, our first date, our first…” He stopped himself, but gave Mattie a small smile. “I’ll be able to remember all of those times.”

“And our first row, and our first prolonged silence, and the first time we said something deliberately hurtful to one another. Don’t do it,” insisted Mattie. She’d been having this same argument with him over and over for days now. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw their cabbie flinch.

“It won’t be anywhere near as bad as you think,” said Leo, taking her hand in both of his now, before stepping out into the open. “I’ll see you back here later?”

Mattie partially looked away and gave a tight, reluctant nod. The driver glanced in sympathy at his sole remaining passenger in the rearview mirror, before pulling off.

 

**Day 10**

“I rang and got an appointment,” Leo told Mattie, as he reached into the cupboard to make her a ‘welcome home’ cup of tea. There was a laminated sign on the cupboard door, of a scrawled cartoon cup with the word ‘MUG’ written underneath. The edges were curling up with age, but Leo liked it as it was – Mattie had made it jokily, the one time he couldn’t remember the word.

“What appointment?” asked Mattie, peeling off her wet coat and shrugging off another working day of screwed-up staring at a screen. “It’s absolutely tipping it down out there. Did you go out?”

“Yes – to Niska and Astrid’s,” answered Leo. “The appointment I talked about – at the clinic. 100% recall, do you remember? The company’s name was…” he held the cup poised in his hand and concentrated, struggling to remember.

“Memento,” replied Mattie dully. Oh no.

“Yes. I’ve got an appointment in a couple of weeks. Will you come with me?” Leo looked at her expectantly, in all innocence. They’d had a similar conversation before, only he didn’t remember. Mattie sighed as he switched on the kettle. Leo was the dearest person in the world to her, but sometimes, when his memory glitched…

……………

In bed that night, the streetlamp outside sending a faint glow through the sheer curtains, Mattie asked Leo: “Tell me what you remember.”

Leo laughed fondly. They’d done this lots of times. “I remember… I remember when we first met. You were pretty sarcastic…”

“… and you _weren’t_?” replied Mattie, pretending to feel stung by this criticism.

“OK – maybe I was. But then we both warmed up to one another. Which was _definitely_ good, because the wedding was… nearly five years ago?”

“That’s right,” said Mattie. “The bride was resplendent in an off-the-shoulder gown designed by Dior; the groom wore a suit by Versace. Their ten bridesmaids and groomsmen were…”

“Ha ha,” smiled Leo. “Now I know _that’s_ not true.” He continued, more reflective now: “But I don’t remember much of it – except for your dad’s speech, which, by the way, was stuffed with _terrible_ puns. And I don’t remember proposing to you, and I very much want to remember. That’s why I need this Momento place to put everything back where it should be.”

Mattie stopped herself from correcting him on the name. “A very wise man once told me that humans shouldn’t be able to recall all our memories. He told me that we’re not built for it… that we need to forget the bad; perfect the good.”

“He sounds very wise indeed,” agreed Leo, not recognising that these were his own words.

“You don’t have to make up your mind just yet,” urged Mattie, glad he couldn’t make out the tear-tracks on her face in the semi-darkness. “You’ll get _everything_ back – not just about us. Everything else too. Maybe things you don’t want to remember.” She thought of what he’d endured before. She thought of how much better their life was now, and fiercely wished he would reconsider. “Just… think about it Leo. Please?”

“I will,” replied Leo. “For you.”

They lay there, huddled up together like they were seeking shelter from an incoming storm; both of them wishing for opposite outcomes.

 

**Day 1**

“Look at this,” said Leo with some urgency, as Mattie entered their flat after a long day at work. He leapt off the couch and pointed towards the blank white wall, where a televid advert was playing out on a loop.

“Want to remember **EVERYTHING**?” trilled a bright voiceover, as a montage of improbably happy people played out on the holographic projection. “At Memento, we guarantee to get all those memories back to you, with our safe, non-surgical procedure. Cheaper than implants – twice as effective, or your money back!”

At the end of the ad, the same voice recited the terms & conditions speedily: dire warnings and get-out clauses were not really selling points.

“You see?” Leo pointed his finger triumphantly. “That’s what I’ve been looking for all along. I just need to write down the URL – did you get it, Mattie?”

Mattie got it. She’d been getting it for a while now. It wasn’t the first time Leo had seen the advert, and it wasn’t the first time he’d scrambled to write down those contact details before he’d invariably forgotten them later.

She smiled and handed him a pen from the counter, but she really wished he’d forget that ad again – it was one memory she didn’t want him to retain. These companies were selling false hope, in a market of freephone shamans promising 100% recall. She and Leo didn’t need that. They got along well enough as it was.

 

**Day -375**

“It’s an old injury, that affected his cerebral cortex,” said the neurologist, using her lightpen to encircle an area on Leo’s brain scan. “That’s the area where memory processing is done. So – long-term memory retention: fair to middling; language production: mainly fine…”

“… but short-term memories: mainly shot to pieces,” Mattie finished for her.

The doctor put down her pen and turned to Mattie: “What would you like me to tell you?”

Mattie looked back at the doctor with interest. She wasn’t talking down to her like all the others had, assuming Mattie was stupid. She was actually listening.

“That there’s some miracle, I guess?” Mattie shrugged, in a poor attempt at nonchalance.

“There’s no miracle. You have a good life now, from what I’ve seen of you and Leo. You love one another. This problem – of the memory function short-circuiting – it may even mend itself in time. The cells may regenerate.”

“But he can’t remember most one-off events either,” argued Mattie. “Our wedding, the birth of a child... nearly all of these get lost. Yet they’re the events he ought to retain.”

“You have children?” asked the doctor. She’d not seen that on the registration form.

“No – not yet. I was speaking theoretically,” replied Mattie, embarrassed. “What about these memory manufacturers: the ones like Memento?”

The doctor sighed – it was something she got asked frequently. “I’m sorry, but I cannot recommend you go down that path. They are the charlatans of our age. It’s strange, don’t you think? We live in a society where synths want to be more human, and where humans seek to become more synth-like.”

“What about you?” questioned Mattie.

“Me? I’m happy as I am,” smiled the doctor. “Pure synth.”

“And I’m proudly human,” said Mattie, standing up to shake hands before leaving the office.

After that, they’d not tried to see any more doctors. They would get along just as they were – no miracle cures, no enhancements, no implants, no memory restoration. They were happy together, and that was that.

 

**Day 25, 6pm**

“Where did you _**go**_?” asked Mattie, distraught, when she’d finally found Leo. He was sitting expectantly on the stairs leading up to their flat. “The receptionist at Memento told me you’d left the clinic. I had absolutely no idea where you were until I got your message just now.”

“I didn’t do it. I thought about what you’d said – and I didn’t go through with it,” Leo confessed, for once, feeling completely sure of his actions. Mattie experienced a thundering rush of relief, before Leo added: “I did something else instead.”

He led her up the stairs, then through the flat’s small entrance hallway and into the kitchen. A hand-painted sign bearing the number ‘5’ was scrolled across the cupboards, and a welcoming aroma of cooking permeated the room.

“Happy anniversary,” smiled Leo, endearingly proud of his homemade efforts. He pulled Mattie into a warm embrace. “I didn’t forget. I remembered.”

“You remembered,” echoed Mattie, resting her cheek against his chest for a minute and giving silent thanks. “What’s in the oven? It smells amazing!” She detached herself finally, and went to peer in.

“Vegetarian lasagne. I followed the recipe to the absolute letter, so I hope it’s OK. It needs another…” Leo looked at the timer… “20 minutes or so.”

“Hmmm, so I could either take a shower, or… we could do something much more pleasurable?” suggested Mattie, taking his hand.

“The second one. Definitely the second one," laughed Leo, as she guided him willingly into the bedroom.

And that anniversary would be inscribed in _both_ their memories, because it was the night that –

 

(well, now, that would be telling…)


End file.
